


Leave It To Stever

by SBG



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Satire, Schmoop, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's got a perfect life, sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave It To Stever

**Author's Note:**

> Song Steve's listening to is "Sh Boom" by The Chords. Also, I fully expect this vignette won't be many people's cuppa. :D

The weariness was bone deep, and there was nothing more in the world that Danny wanted to do than get home. He knew just how he’d spend his evening – he’d take a hot shower (maybe with his hot husband), have a hot meal and then end the night with a bout of hot lovemaking. He smiled, knew was the luckiest of men that he had so much to look forward to at the end of a brutal day. Now if he could only manipulate time and space to be there already. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glanced with irritation at the red light until it turned green. 

He gunned the Camaro, then, reveling in the experience of getting to drive his own car. When Steve was back from medical leave, the car would once again be hijacked, so Danny was going to enjoy every last second of this temporary pleasure. He’d always been good at storing up the good memories and feelings to bring back out and re-live when things weren’t so going so well. Not that he had to employ that tactic, which his annoying but wonderful super SEAL called some mutated form of compartmentalization, very much these days. Nope, not him. His life was pretty damned amazing. With the exception of not having full custody of Grace, he had hardly any cause for complaint with Steve at home and not making him afraid for his life multiple times a day. He grinned and looked at the small bag of odd goodies on the passenger seat, special request from his highness.

Danny wasn’t going to say he didn’t like to play devil’s advocate now and again, but when it came to Steve’s random and sometimes strange cravings, he didn’t plan on saying a thing. He knew better, having gone through it with Rachel – some bears are best left unpoked. Besides, after he got over the inconvenience of tromping to the store at 2:00 AM, it amused him terribly when his generally health-conscious husband would not be satisfied until he had a fried apple pie from McDonalds or a family-sized bag of cheesy garlic bread flavored potato chips. Before he’d left HQ today, he’d gotten a text begging that he pick up a box of Good & Plenty, a tub of Cool Whip and a bottle of maple syrup. He shuddered at the thought of all three being consumed at the same time, though something interesting could come out of the whipped topping and syrup combo. It was that which kept him entertained as he suffered through the ridiculous Honolulu rush hour traffic.

After what seemed like two hours, he finally pulled the car next to Steve’s truck at home. He grabbed the grocery bag and headed inside, pausing to collect the mail. He rifled through what little there was, mostly junk and catalogues. When he stepped into the house, Danny heard the faint din of music from the kitchen, along with accompanying power tools. He shook his head and smiled. Only Steve would need an electric screwdriver or a circular saw to make a meal. 

“Honey, I’m home,” he shouted to be heard over the song – something fifties or sixties, not Steve’s usual taste, but Danny was getting used to the fluctuations. Really, he was. He side-eyed the grocery items and shuddered again.

“Back here,” came Steve’s answering call. “Did you bring the stuff?”

Danny held the plastic bag by two fingers. He lifted his arm high as he entered the kitchen, prepared to make a grand entrance. His steps faltered when he saw Steve on a stepladder, leaning and stretching over the sink.

“What the hell are you doing?” Danny plonked the bag on the counter as he stepped quickly to Steve’s side. He grasped his obstinate husband’s hips. “This is not taking it easy, Steve.”

Okay, some might say that Danny was a hair on the over-protective side these days, but the doctor had made it explicit that at this point Steve should be doing limited physical activity. He sure as shit shouldn’t be up on a freaking ladder, not with his current balance issues. Yes, he was aware that he was being hypocritical, expecting dinner to be made but the other daily chores left. 

“Relax, I’m barely a foot off the ground.”

“You think that matters to the baby? _Our_ baby? Steve, you misstep and fall, you could do serious damage to our boy, and yourself. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Steve pivoted slightly on the ladder, shifting under Danny’s hands. Danny scowled at the partly confused, partly amused face Steve was giving him. It was a look Danny was familiar with, one he found as sweet as aggravating, and it was in some small part responsible for him falling so hard for Steve when logic dictated he should run the other way. Sometimes, he was sure Steve knew he was a sucker for that look and used it to his advantage. It was Danny’s fault that continued, because sometimes he didn’t much care if Steve knew that. Sometimes, maybe, he enjoyed provoking that look.

Sometimes was not now. 

“Do not, Steven. I know you were there at the last doctor’s appointment, because it was _yours_. I know you heard all of the same cautions I did.”

“They really sounded more like guidelines to me,” Steve said. He gave a lopsided grin, the charming pretty thing. “Hey, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Steve placed a hand on his swelled belly, as if for emphasis, another surefire trick to manipulate Danny. Well, that wasn’t going to work, either. Danny pursed his lips and shook his head. Every baby born was a tiny miracle as far as he was concerned, his and Steve’s even more so due to the biological improbability of it all. Seven months ago, Danny would have said it was impossible for a man to be with child. Somehow or another, he didn’t know how – the power of their one true love, maybe – he’d gotten Steve pregnant. That was not the kind of fated occurrence he wanted to mess up by doing stupid things. If he had his way, he might insist Steve stay in a room lined with a thousand pillows, cushioned and protected from any potential danger. 

“This time,” Danny said. “But you gotta stop, hon. I know it’s hard for you to not be constantly in motion, but you need to rest. What if you’d lost your balance? If you can’t take it easy for me, then think about Mack.”

“That’s low, Daniel. You know I wouldn’t do anything intentionally reckless. I’m just going stir crazy here.” Gone was the endearing puppy face. Steve glowered at him. “And we’re not naming our son Mack. Mack McGarrett sounds stupid.”

“Maybe, but Mack Williams has a nice ring to it, and don’t you think that you’re going to distract me with that same old argument. I’d appreciate it if you showed as much care for our unborn son’s life as you do his potential name, that’s all.”

“You’re being melodramatic. The chances of me falling are astronomical.”

“No, I’m not. You’re you.” He flung his right arm out. “You’re on that ladder, for what, exactly?”

Danny could see very well what Steve was up to. For the past several weeks, Steve had engaged in what Danny could only call nesting. He had no idea Steve harbored such impulses, but first he’d come home to a guestroom fully remodeled into a nursery, then all of the accents in the living room had been swapped out. By the time the baby was born, the whole house would look different. All of it had been done against doctor’s orders of bed rest. With such an unusual circumstance, everyone except Steve agreed to err on the side of caution.

“I thought the kitchen could use a new look. Don’t you like them?”

“Shipboard camo, Steve, really?”

“Well, I know how you feel about paisley,” Steve said as he climbed from the ladder with precise movements, the smartass. “C’mon, baby, go easy on me. I’m _bored_ , and at least I didn’t venture out to the store. You know driving poses more risk than hanging curtains.”

The plain fact was they both knew that when it came to Steve, Danny had no real resolve. Not behind closed doors in their personal life, anyway, and even not on the job when it boiled down to it. He was going to have to work on that. Tomorrow.

“I do hate paisley,” Danny said, one hand still somehow on Steve’s hip. He squeezed gently, drew his partner closer. 

_“If you would let me spend my whole life loving you,”_ the singer of the song still playing belted out. _“Life would be a dream, sweetheart.”_

Humming, Steve pressed close and wrapped himself around Danny, started swaying to the music. There were moments between them that were so tender they didn’t seem quite real, Danny though, his head muzzy with it now. When they’d first met, no way would Danny have pictured Steve as the sort to make a concerted effort at interior design or to hold his hand during romantic movies or leave him love notes or cook him his favorite foods from home. He remained mystified by the personality shift, but he didn’t hate it. Not exactly. 

A strange sense of surreality crept over Danny all of a sudden, and he felt like he was there but he wasn’t there. Worse, he felt like he hadn’t ever actually been there at all, more like he was watching it all happen and participating at the same, incongruent time. He pulled back and stared at Steve’s face, looking for signs of the same disconcertion and saw only warmth and love in his eyes. In fact, his husband looked like he was backlit and some sort of blurred filter softened his features. Huh. 

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you,” Steve said, and now even his voice sounded just slightly off. He reached for the grocery bag. “You’re just the sweetest, kindest, most perfect man.”

Steve opened the Good & Plenty box, shook a few of the candies into his palm and then popped them in his mouth. He uttered a sinful-sounding moan and gazed at the ceiling for a moment, before he returned his attention to Danny, leaning down for a slow kiss.

“Uck,” Danny said into Steve’s mouth, then backed away from their embrace. “I hate licorice.”

He wrinkled his nose and turned away, intent on getting a glass of water. Steve’s big hand slid around to his stomach, stopped him from moving too far. 

“Steve, what’re you…” 

Danny opened his eyes to hazy darkness. He gasped, disoriented, but within seconds realized he was in bed, at Steve’s again. He also realized he’d been dreaming, none of that had been reality except the hand currently on his belly. He grunted as Steve shifted behind him, nudged him so he was twisted halfway on his stomach. The slide of Steve’s obviously hard and ready dick against his ass woke him all the way up.

“Seriously?” Danny grumbled. “You weren’t going to wake me up for this, were you?”

“Horny,” Steve said into Danny’s shoulder, which he then bit gently and then kissed. “I want you. You know you want me, too, anytime and anywhere. You’re still relaxed and ready, from before.”

Freaking disgusting filthy animal. Danny couldn’t keep the moan from escaping, though, as Steve’s hand trailed down and took him firmly. At the same time, Steve pushed into him, already well lubed and gloved. Danny also couldn’t help but rock back against Steve, eager for Steve to be in him deeper. He thought of dream Steve, all soft and backlit and pregnant and “Leave It To Stever”. He had no idea what his subconscious was smoking. He didn't want that. He wanted the asshole with no design sense or etiquette whatsoever. He wanted the Steve who hadn't changed one iota since they'd started sleeping together.

“Fuck,” Danny said, squirming out of Steve’s grip. 

“C’mon.” Steve was whiny now, desperate for it. “I’m up, you’re up. Let's do it.”

Muttering under his breath about his relentless, hot partner, Danny employed moves he knew Steve didn’t know he possessed, reversing their positions. He enjoyed the creak of the bedframe, the slightly befuddled look on Steve’s face as he found himself flat on his back. He straddled Steve, glared down at him.

“Fuck you. Don’t ever change, you inconsiderate bastard,” Danny said. He grabbed at Steve’s scrabbling hands, pinned them against the headboard. He kissed Steve, rough and sloppy, pulled back and growled, “And I’m driving this time."


End file.
